Inbox Zero
by SpaceCat010
Summary: The weekly task of clearing the team's fan mail inbox typically results in a brief moment of reflection.


_Here's a little idea I had and whipped up. Happy holidays and happy new year!_

**_"Inbox Zero" by SpaceCat010_**

* * *

Fox's finger gently flicked the scroll wheel of his computer mouse upward. The small rubber disc gently rumbled in response as it rotated inside its plastic housing.

A mountain of e-mails raced past his eyes on the monitor, each one trying its hardest to make itself stand out from the rest. Fan mail from the obsessed, business offers from filmmakers and other media outlets, as well as the typical weirdo asking about his legs, among other things. Each member of Star Fox may or may not have had their own personal e-mail account that was under no circumstances to be revealed to any civilians, but a singular corporate media account under the team's name had always garnered attention.

A media account for the team to post the occasional picture from space, the _Great Fox II, _ an arwing cockpit, to announce something special, for Falco to have a WWE-style public roast session like the Wendy's twitter account, taking a business inquiry; it was basically a way for the team to communicate with fans without having insane teenagers and nosy reporters make Fox want to jump in his arwing and book it back to the familiar room aboard the dreadnought he'd lived on for a pretty good chunk of his life.

A media account was perfectly fine in Fox's opinion, if people were going to treat him like a god, he'd rather them do it from behind a screen than in person. People recognizing him and getting mobbed while the team was planet side was actually one of the main reasons he rarely left the McCloud manor, or at the very least during nighttime. Night had become a special quiet time for him, to get outside and take a walk through the park near the manor, where he could see the stars he flew through almost every day through the eyes of a normal individual.

Sometimes he'd wished he was just that; a normal, average, individual. Not someone who'd be held as a god among men and have people throw themselves at his feet, or get mobbed wherever he went.

But then, he'd remember the legacy he carried on his back, in his blood, and in his name. Fox McCloud led the second generation of Star Fox, a group of men and women dedicated to bringing justice to Lylat and doing what's right not for themselves, but for their people. Saving the galaxy came with its fair share of highs, lows, and everything in between, but the feeling of doing the right thing never failed to bring a smile to his face. That, and he didn't have to pay taxes on payouts from the CDF, so maybe the good outweighed the bad just a little bit more in his case.

The vulpine's bright emerald green eyes stopped over a particular message.

The email was from a well known Cornerian news agency, asking for an opportunity to interview the much sought-after heroes of Lylat. It was a fairly common occurrence to find in their inbox, though this one, like all the rest, had tried to come up with some BS reason as to why they should be his next pick at a public appearance.

Though it had gotten quite annoying with each outlet and tabloid trying to outdo one another, it seemed as though Fox couldn't blame them. Most of the time it was just some minimum-wage-paid reporter trying to please their superiors, which is why he usually only responded to individuals.

_'There's always the Grant-A-Wish foundation,'_ the vulpine thought as he skimmed through the email.

Every once in a while the Grant-A-Wish foundation would come to him, asking the team to visit someone, typically young children with incurable diseases, given a couple weeks or even days to live. Every time he'd been requested by them, he'd accept it in a heartbeat and visit another young admirer soon to pass on, if not say hello to them from a video call. Fox knew what it was like to lose a loved one, and he'd gladly sacrifice his own time if it meant that a family could see their child happy just one last time.

Reaching the bottom of the email from the news outlet, he found the gist of their message.

_'Come meet some fans... Questions about what Star Fox is like... Are your legs really metal... Blah, blah, blah.'_

Deciding that he'd read all the new emails and ignored the pointless ones, Fox moved the mouse cursor over to a small menu in the top left corner of his screen. A small button with a little exclamation point next to it appeared below it as one of the options. Fox clicked it, and the tens of thousands of emails flooding his inbox disappeared instantly.

Getting up from his computer, Fox pulled out his phone and took a picture of the view out his window. It seemed as though people couldn't get enough of pictures from space, either. Sure, they look cool and make good desktop wallpapers, but Fox had been plenty used to the familiar sight of open space.

Fans emailing the team had become monotonous plenty already, but there was something special to seeing the smiles on those hospitalized children's faces. The feeling of being a hero never failed to make him smile, and it seemed that smiles had become contagious in hospitals whenever he was there.

Of course, the emails asking him to appear at the deathbead of a fan with a dying wish was almost always followed by another annoying, pointless, or sometimes even downright disgusting questions that could've even make Peppy want to blow up their home planet.

Of course, these were the unfortunate downside of having fans, making the freedom of inbox zero all the more worthwhile.


End file.
